


Prisons, Cages and Mausoleums

by So_Runs_the_World_Away



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: A twist on the klaus breaks vanya out of the cage trope, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves is a Good Brother, Luther Hargreeves Being an Asshole, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, The Mausoleum (Umbrella Academy), Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_Runs_the_World_Away/pseuds/So_Runs_the_World_Away
Summary: Klaus folded his arms across his chest. “Nuh-uh. No way. Sorry, brother dearest, but the only way you’re locking her in there is if you lock me in too.”“Oh my God,” Ben said from behind him, his tone a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “You’re an idiot.”Klaus ignored Ben, lifting his jaw obstinately and squaring his shoulders. He fixed Luther with his most intimidating stare. “Your choice, brother mine.”Luther sighed, annoyance evident in his eyes. “Whatever you want, Klaus.”His brother stepped back, out of the room – Vanya’s cell (Klaus’ prison), beginning to close the door.“I’ll check on you later, Klaus.”(“Three more hours, Number Four.”)The door shut soundlessly, and Klaus watched, his heartrate accelerating, as Luther spun the wheel of the lock before turning and walking away.He was trapped.-------------Klaus refuses to let Luther leave Vanya to wake up alone in a cage. Between the panic attacks and the withdrawal, he doesn't quite manage to play the role of the comforting older brother. Somehow it works out anyway.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 33
Kudos: 968





	Prisons, Cages and Mausoleums

**Author's Note:**

> There's a bunch of fics where Klaus or his siblings break Vanya out of the cage. But I was wondering what would've happened if Klaus caught Luther just a bit earlier.
> 
> (This is a repost because AO3 backlogged the publish date last time.)

“Klaus, you need to get downstairs _now_!”

The urgency in Ben’s tone didn’t leave any room for doubt. Klaus didn’t hesitate, even with the pain clouding his mind. He dropped his knitting needles and slid off the bed clumsily, only briefly taking in the relief flooding Ben’s face before his brother turned and rushed out of the room. Klaus stumbled after him, hugging his stomach.

(God, he was fucking sore. His entire body _ached_ , and his stomach was trying to fucking kill him.)

He arrived at the banister of the staircase, leaning on it heavily, just in time to see Luther gently picking Vanya up, cradling her in his arms, bridal style.

“Is she okay?” Klaus burst out worriedly, all other thoughts disregarded at the sight of his littlest sister, so small in Luther’s arms.

Luther startled, his head jerking upward to meet Klaus’ eyes. “Yes,” he said after a moment, averting his gaze. “She must’ve just fainted or something. I’ll take her to Mom.”

“Don’t you _dare_ believe him,” Ben hissed, and Klaus shot him a concerned look at the pure venom in his tone. “He _crushed_ her, Klaus. She was _crying_ and she thought he was giving her a _hug_ , and he _crushed her to his chest until she couldn’t breathe_.”

Okay. Wow.

Klaus thought of Luther, drunk and angry, squeezing him by the throat and pressing him against the wall, an undeniable stench of alcohol on his breath. Luther, tossing him aside like a ragdoll without even a second glance. Luther, leaving him to die alone on the floor of a rave.

Klaus narrowed his eyes. “Wanna try that again, _bruder_?”

Luther stared up at him wordlessly for a moment before his expression hardened and he jerked his head toward the hallway. “Follow me.”

Klaus stumbled down the stairs as Luther began to walk away, quickly catching up with him, unwilling to leave his sister alone. “Where are we going?”

He walked directly beside Luther, even as his brother ignored him, unlocking a door Klaus hadn’t known existed and revealing an elevator that he also hadn’t known existed. Klaus hesitated for a moment, lingering outside as Luther stepped into the elevator, staring uncertainly at the small space.

“ _Klaus_ ,” Ben said warningly.

 _For Vanya_ , Klaus decided, breathing in deeply before stepping inside. (It did nothing to help the tremors that rocked his body, nor the fuzziness building in his head.)

“You’ve got this,” Ben reassured as the doors closed and Klaus squeezed his eyes shut, leaning against the wall. “It won’t take too long. Why don’t you ask Luther why the hell he strangled Vanya?”

“Luther,” Klaus breathed out, glancing up at his brother. “What are we doing here?”

For a moment his brother didn’t speak, and Klaus was certain he’d just ignore him again. But Luther shifted, staring down at Vanya in his arms with an intensity that unsettled Klaus.

“Allison woke up,” he said shortly. “She told me what happened to her.” He paused. “Turns out Dad was hiding one last secret. Vanya has powers.”

“Oh.” All the air rushed out of his lungs in a sharp exhale. For a moment, Klaus forgot how to breathe. “Oh,” he whispered.

“Holy shit,” Ben uttered incredulously.

“Pogo told us about how Dad put her on suppressants when she was younger because she was too powerful,” Luther continued heavily. “Today, when Allison found Vanya, they got into an argument. Vanya lost control – lashed out at Allison.”

“Dad’s a bastard,” Klaus murmured absentmindedly only to shrink away from the pointed glare Luther gave him.

“Klaus, Five said the world ends today,” Luther stated meaningfully.

His mind was sluggish and felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. He couldn’t piece together whatever Luther was clearly hinting at.

Ben could.

“Holy shit,” Ben breathed. “You think Vanya causes the apocalypse.”

Klaus’ head jerked toward Luther. “Vanya?” he demanded. “You think _Vanya_ ends the world? Our little sister?”

The doors to the elevator slid open but Klaus barely noticed, trailing after Luther automatically as he gestured violently, disregarding the pain shooting through his body. “Luther, Vanya cried when we stepped on _ants_ as kids! She’s not going to end the fucking world!”

“Her powers were too destructive, so Dad suppressed them,” Luther said sharply. “She’s already hurt people – she killed three of her nannies when she was younger, hurt Dad – she nearly killed _Allison_!”

“That’s bullshit, Luther!” Klaus snapped. “There’s no way in _hell_ -”

“Klaus!” Ben shouted over him. “ _Look_.”

Klaus looked. And his heart stopped, eyes landing on the metal bunker and understanding immediately.

“No.”

_(“Welcome back to the land of the living, Number Four.”)_

He could feel his breathing picking up as he stared at the bunker, Vanya’s would-be prison. Jesus, how fucking long had this room been down here? Had Reginald locked Vanya up when they were kids too?

Suddenly, he was thirteen again, being dragged roughly by the arm to his own prison, in the dead of night. Already, he could hear the screams of the dead, audible through the door of the mausoleum. The ghosts didn’t come out to greet him – they knew by now that he’d come to them.

His voice sounded a million miles away to his own ears. “You can’t do this, Luther.”

He was supposed to be free from this. They were supposed to be done with this. Reginald Hargreeves had died, a bitter old man, alone in a big old house, just like he deserved. They were supposed to be done with their cages.

Luther (Reginald?) ignored him again, stepping forward to reach for the wheel. Klaus reflexively reached for Luther’s arm, but his brother shoved him and suddenly he was flying into a wall and stars were dancing before his eyes, and he was being thrown into a cold mausoleum and the dead were lunging for him.

“That _dick_!” Ben fumed. Klaus blinked a few times to orient himself, as the blurry form above him solidified into his brother (safe, not a vengeful ghost, not in the mausoleum). “Klaus, you need to get up. Stop him.”

“How?” Klaus groaned, stumbling to his feet and studiously ignoring the pain shooting throughout his entire body. “ _Shit._ ”

Luther already had the door open and was stepping inside. Klaus staggered toward the door, catching himself on the door.

“Manifest me!” Ben demanded. “I’ll knock Luther out, run in and get Vanya. Come on, Klaus!”

_(“Have you overcome your fear of the dead?”)_

Klaus concentrated, trying to summon that same sensation he’d had when Ben had punched him before. But – nothing. There was nothing. He couldn’t. He couldn’t _fucking focus on anything except for the agony in his stomach_.

“I- I can’t!” Klaus cried out desperately. “Ben, what do I do?”

“Okay, you- you need to run up and get Diego!” Ben’s eyes were wild with fear, and Klaus was certain they matched his own.

“It’ll be too late!” Klaus pointed out. Already, Luther had set Vanya down in the middle of the room and was turning around, frowning at him. He didn’t like their odds when Vanya was already locked up.

“Shit!” Klaus cursed, bitterly accepting his fate. “Fine! Goddammit.”

He sucked in a deep breath before stepping into the room and stumbling around Luther to stand over Vanya. With only a cursory look-over to ensure she was still breathing, he turned to face his brother.

“You can’t do this,” he stated. And _now_ he had Luther’s attention.

“Klaus.” Luther sighed disapprovingly. That same irritated, reproachful tone he always used with Klaus, like this was just another one of Klaus’ antics he had to deal with. “What are you doing?”

“What _are_ you doing?” Ben whispered, and Klaus knew from where his voice was, that he was checking over Vanya even as he fretted at Klaus, because that was who his brother was. “Klaus, I can’t expect you to- I know you can’t-”

(Ben knew about the mausoleum. He knew about the hours, turned days that Reginald would lock him up for, just him and the screaming corpses of the dead. He knew how Klaus couldn’t _stand_ confined spaces or even the dark because of it.)

Ben couldn’t expect him to stay down here. That’s okay. Klaus didn’t need him to.

_(“You must become the master of your own life, Number Four, or it will become the master of you.”)_

“You’re not leaving our sister down here alone,” Klaus declared, a sudden determination fuelling him. “I don’t care if you’re Number One.”

Luther shook his head in exasperation. “Klaus, get out of the damn room.”

Klaus folded his arms across his chest. “Nuh-uh. No way. Sorry, brother dearest, but the only way you’re locking her in there is if you lock me in too.”

“Oh my God,” Ben said from behind him, his tone a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “You’re an idiot.”

Klaus ignored Ben, lifting his jaw obstinately and squaring his shoulders. He fixed Luther with his most intimidating stare. “Your choice, brother mine.”

Luther sighed, annoyance evident in his eyes. “Whatever you want, Klaus.”

His brother stepped back, out of the room – Vanya’s cell (Klaus’ prison), beginning to close the door.

“I’ll check on you later, Klaus.”

_(“Three more hours, Number Four.”)_

The door shut soundlessly, and Klaus watched, his heartrate accelerating, as Luther spun the wheel of the lock before turning and walking away.

He was trapped.

Klaus turned slowly, dropping to his knees beside Vanya and Ben. His breathing was still jagged and unsteady but Ben reached out, a hand hovering above his arm reassuringly so that Klaus could almost pretend to feel its comforting weight.

Wordlessly, he slipped off his vest, folding it with trembling hands and gently adjusting Vanya to set it under her head.

She looked so small, so vulnerable there. For a moment it was easy to forget the bitterness that had always pervaded their relationship – the resentment caused by her desperate desire for powers and his wholehearted wish for anything but.

He loved his sister. Of course he did. But their relationship wasn’t a particularly strong one.

Klaus reached out shakily to smooth Vanya’s hair out of her face before withdrawing quickly. He scooted away from Vanya to curl up against the wall, pushing the foam spikes out of the way until he was uncomfortably nestled between them.

Resting his head between his knees, Klaus tried to focus on breathing, drawing in deep rattling breaths and letting them out with shuddering exhales, trying to ignore the way his teeth chattered.

 _It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay_ , Klaus tried to reassure himself. _I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay._

(He wasn’t.)

Klaus could feel Ben settle beside him, close, but not close enough to accidentally phase through him.

“You shouldn’t have done this. Not with your claustrophobia and _definitely_ not while going through withdrawal.”

Klaus tilted his head to offer his brother a shaky grin. “You know me. Never do what I should.”

“You’re an idiot,” Ben stated softly, affection and pride in his voice. “But you’re a good brother.”

The smile on Klaus’ face became more genuine.

“The withdrawal’s gonna get worse,” Ben warned. “And we don’t know whether any ghosts will turn up down here or not.”

“Why are you telling me shit I already know, Benji?”

“Just…” A pause. “I’ll do my best to help you through it, okay? I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

A sliver of warmth bubbled up in Klaus’ chest and he smiled into his knees. “Love you too, Bennerino.”

That was when the first ghost started screaming.

* * *

Vanya jolted awake.

There was a moment of stillness as she registered what she was looking at – the dark, cold room, the foam spikes lining the walls – and then she was scrambling to her feet and spinning desperately to take in her surroundings (because she _couldn’t_ be back here, she _couldn’t_ be trapped again) before she froze, her eyes landing on a solitary figure curled up against the wall.

Klaus offered her a tired smile, an unhealthy pallor to his face and a thin sheen of sweat on his lips. “Hey sis.”

“Klaus?” Vanya took a step forward and her foot bumped against something. Looking down, she realised it was a folded jacket – Klaus’. Vanya raised a hand to touch the back of her head, realising. _He gave it to me._

She leaned down to scoop up the jacket- no, vest, before letting herself drop to her knees beside Klaus. “What’s happening?” she asked quietly, hugging the vest to her chest ( ~~trying to soak in the simple comfort Klaus had offered her while unconscious).~~

“Luther locked you in here,” Klaus stated honestly and Vanya flinched. “Be- I saw it happen and followed him. I’m sorry – I tried to stop him, but well…”

Vanya nodded. She could picture Klaus, skinny as a twig, with no muscle to him, standing up to Luther, their giant of a brother with super-strength. The mental image did not bode well.

“Did he lock you in too?” Vanya asked softly, guilty filling her. This was _her_ cage. Dad had made it for her. Klaus didn’t belong here.

Klaus let out a strained laugh before glaring to his right. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

Klaus’ eyes, somewhat watery, drifted back to meet her own, and Vanya was not startled by the kindness and compassion in them, which had been so apparent in their childhood ~~, and she realised she’d missed during her adulthood~~. “I didn’t want to leave you alone,” he murmured truthfully.

Vanya’s eyes filled with tears immediately.

“Shit- no! Don’t cry, please don’t cry! _Ben, what do I do?_ Van, it’s alright.”

Vanya was drawn into an awkward hug. Klaus’ skin was clammy and his arms were shaking and clumsy (she had always thought that Klaus was too gangly for his own good), and he smelt like body odour, but she couldn’t help but cling to him desperately.

“It’s alright, Vanny,” Klaus soothed. “We’re fine. Don’t worry.”

Vanya sniffed before withdrawing, wiping her tears away in embarrassment. “Sorry, Klaus.”

“It’s alright.” Klaus’ face was only slightly strained as he smiled at her. “I’m pretty sure if any situation warrants tears, this is it.”

“I hurt Allison,” Vanya admitted, her breath spiking as she pictured Allison, the shock on her face, hands flying to her throat, choking on her own blood, her sweater darkening steadily. ~~Leonard laughing abruptly, then pulling Vanya away, ushering her away from her dying sister.~~

“I know.” Klaus wrapped his arms around his middle again, rasping in a breath. “You didn’t mean to though. You lost control. Allison was awake and responsive last I heard.”

“She’ll be okay?” Vanya hated how small her voice sounded.

“Of course,” Klaus reassured before a small groan escaped him. “I’m sure she’ll make a full recovery.”

“Maybe Luther was right to lock me up,” Vanya whispered. There was a hollow ache in her chest, and she hugged Klaus’ vest closer. “I hurt my own sister. I killed Leonard.”

Klaus’ eyes flickered somewhere behind Vanya before he responded. “You don’t deserve to be locked up,” Klaus asserted. “And it isn’t up to Luther to play judge, jury and executioner, the dick. Locking people up like this – it doesn’t achieve anything good.”

“What do you mean?”

Klaus hunched into himself a little more. “Dad used to lock me up too,” he admitted after a moment, his eyes sliding to his right. “The mausoleum behind the house.”

Klaus met her gaze again, watery eyes open and honest. “I know what it’s like to be locked up. And when Luther decided to follow in daddy dearest’s footsteps, I couldn’t let you wake up here alone.”

Vanya consciously made an effort to push back the tears this time, instead focusing on the warmth that spread through her at Klaus’ words. _He cared._ That was what mattered. She held onto that assurance and let it anchor her, focusing on taking deep breaths to calm herself.

Vanya shifted, settling cross-legged on the ground. She took a moment to properly look over Klaus. Without her speaking, his eyes drifted shut, his brow furrowed, and his face contorted. His breathing was unsteady and irregular shallow intakes of breath. His skin was still unnaturally pale and the unpleasant dampness to her clothes testified to Klaus’ excessive sweating. Even as she watched, he shifted uncomfortably, trembling arms wrapped around his midsection.

“Are you alright, Klaus?”

Klaus opened his eyes, blinking several times before he seemed to focus on her. “What?” His speech was slightly slurred. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just – withdrawal’s getting pretty bad.”

“Oh.” Reluctantly. “Do you have anything on you that you could take?”

Klaus blinked at her confusedly before realisation seemed to hit him. He managed a shaky smile, even with the pain clouding his eyes. “Well, that’s gotta be the first time any of my siblings suggested I do drugs. But you’ve got the wrong idea, Van. Believe it or not, this is intentional.”

Vanya couldn’t help the automatic smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re trying to get sober?” she questioned hopefully.

Klaus peered at her before scoffing affectionately. “Don’t look _so_ excited, Van. I think my stomach’s trying to kill me, and I’m _really_ trying not to be sick, because vomit in an enclosed space? _Not_ a good idea.”

Vanya grimaced at the thought but reached out, less unsure this time, placing a hand on Klaus’ ankle in what she hoped was a reassuring move. “Is there any way I can help?”

Klaus considered her for a moment before he flinched. “Don’t think so,” he mumbled. “We’re trapped in here. No getting out.”

It all seemed so sudden to Vanya. Abruptly, Klaus was violently flinching away as if she’d tried to hit him, toppling onto his side. His hands flew up to his ears. “ _Jesus_ , shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Klaus’ breathing hitched and he flinched again, recoiling into himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered. “ _Shit_ , I can’t do this. Why did I think I could do this?” Klaus hugged his legs to his chest, shaking. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Vanya scooted closer, a sudden calm filling her. “Klaus? You’re having a panic attack. Could you give me your hand?”

At first she was worried Klaus hadn’t heard her, but one arm unravelled from around his stomach, reaching for her, and she steadily took his hand. Ignoring the unpleasant sweatiness to his palms, she gently wrapped her smaller hand around it and brought it to rest on her chest.

“Klaus? I need you to breathe with me, okay? We’ll count to five, alright?” She didn’t wait for his response, instead taking a deep breath and counting in her head before exhaling. “Okay? Breathe in one-two-three-four-five. And out one-two-three-four-five.”

Klaus clumsily copied her as she stopped counting, heaving in unsteady breaths, and trying to match her pace. Vanya sat with him patiently, breathing in and out deeply in the steady pace her therapist had taught her for dealing with panic attacks. Eventually, Klaus’ breathing slowed to a rate that matched her own.

“Feeling any better?” Vanya asked softly.

Klaus nodded and pulled his hand from hers, pressing it against his stomach as he clumsily sat up. “ _Fuck_ , sorry Van. I’m supposed to be the one helping you here.”

“It’s alright,” Vanya reassured. And it really was. This was something she could handle. “Do you mind if I ask what triggered that?” _Is there anything I can do to stop it happening again?_

Klaus winced before his eyes slid to the right, landing on something (a ghost?) she couldn’t see. After a moment, he hissed at it before his attention turned back to Vanya. “It wasn’t… _exactly_ just locking me up. The mausoleum… there were lots of ghosts there. They were _angry_ and always _screaming_ at me. They weren’t even human anymore. And Dad would leave me there for days at a time – just me and a bunch of screaming, mutilated corpses.”

For a moment, Vanya was rendered speechless, pure horror flooding her veins. “Fuck,” she whispered. “Jesus _Christ_ , Klaus. How old were you when he first…?”

“Thirteen,” Klaus supplied.

“ _Fuck_.”

Thirteen. That was when things had really started going downhill for Klaus. He’d already been experimenting with alcohol, but at age thirteen, Five had disappeared and Klaus had all but done the same, falling hard into a seemingly endless spiral of drugs and highs.

“How did you even-?” Vanya cut herself off, shaking her head, tears of anger stinging at her eyes.

“It wasn’t so bad at first,” Klaus offered, a weak attempt at reassurance, reaching out to place a trembling hand on her knee. “You remember our little protector at that age?”

Of course she did. Five. Five, who was haughty and exuded arrogance, but was always the first to take the blame for an accident. Who demanded extra training from Dad when the others were at the point of collapse, and who would linger at Vanya’s door when she played, offering kind praises and gentle smiles that were only for her. 

“Five accidentally jumped in during one of my individual training sessions,” Klaus recounted. “The second he realised what was happening, he teleported me out. Took me to Griddy’s.” There was a slightly wistful smile on his lips. “He did that every single training session, without fail. Dad used to just leave me in overnight, and Five would always be there the minute that door closed, and have me back just before he came to let me out, so Dad never found out.”

Klaus laughed, too abrupt and tinged with an edge of hysteria. “And the little bastard likes to pretend he doesn’t care.”

Carefully, Vanya settled closer to Klaus, so they were shoulder-to-shoulder, foam spikes uncomfortably digging into her back. But when Vanya reached hesitantly for Klaus’ hand, he gave it freely, clammy fingers curling around hers.

“I’m glad Five was there for you,” Vanya murmured. “What Dad did was fucked, and you didn’t deserve it.”

How many times had she wished desperately for Klaus’ powers? How many times had she jealously seen him being taken away to his individual training? How many times had she unjustly resented him for _wasting_ his powers, throwing them away on alcohol and drugs, when she herself had none?

She’d been so horribly wrong.

Klaus squeezed her hand gently, as if hearing her thoughts, and after a brief hesitation, she squeezed it back. He wasn’t angry at her. He would’ve been justified if he had been.

Vanya could see how her cage would trigger Klaus’ memories of the mausoleum. They were trapped, closed in, unable to escape (and didn’t thinking about that make her own heart rate accelerate?), and it was dark, the only light entering the room from the small window on the door.

“Jesus, Klaus,” she whispered. “Dad put you through all that, and you still let Luther lock you in here?”

“You’re my sister,” Klaus murmured simply, as if nothing else mattered.

Vanya curled into herself, that horrible hollow feeling expanding in her chest. “I hurt Allison – I nearly killed her.”

Klaus flinched, one hand jerking up to cover his other ear. “You’re family. If we stopped being family every time one of us nearly killed a sibling, it would’ve been a real quiet funeral.”

“It’s not just that,” Vanya protested quietly. “I keep hurting you all. I can’t seem to _stop_ hurting you.”

Diego, furious and hurt, shouting over a phone line. Allison, bleeding out beneath her hands. Klaus, now, curled up in a cage designed for Vanya, reliving his childhood trauma to help _her._

Klaus glanced to his right and sighed. “You mean The Book, don’t you?”

Klaus’ tone wasn’t harsh or accusing like Diego was when speaking to her, but Vanya flinched back anyway, quickly withdrawing her hand and pressing Klaus’ vest closer to her chest.

“I was kind of hoping you hadn’t read it,” Vanya admitted, which seemed ridiculous, even to herself. Because why _had_ she written it, if not for that brief moment in the spotlight to her siblings?

Any delusions she’d had about the aftermath of publishing her book had been swiftly dismantled by the angry phone call from Diego, only a day after publication. Klaus had been the only one who didn’t treat her differently – looking at her with that edge of wariness and anger for publishing their family’s dirty secrets.

“We read it in rehab,” Klaus confirmed, and Vanya winced, because that could _not_ have been good for his recovery. “It was… interesting.”

Klaus’ section had not been kind, Vanya knew. She’d envied him – all their siblings, really. She wished desperately that she had powers, and felt bitter toward Klaus for squandering his.

His section had not been kind. But no more so than any of the others.

“Everyone’s furious at me,” Vanya confessed. “Diego hates me. He should. Who would’ve thought that _I_ could cause the most damage in our family?” _Little, powerless Vanya._

Klaus smiled, a strange look in his eyes. This time it was him that reached out, a clammy hand resting comfortingly on her knee. “I think they missed the point. I did too, at first. I didn’t like it, but aside from your speculation about the ghosties, there wasn’t a single lie in my chapter.” Klaus tilted his head at her. “We messed up pretty bad with you, didn’t we?”

Vanya laughed wetly, hugging Klaus’ vest tightly to her chest. Hadn’t those been the words she’d been dying to hear? Hadn’t that been her deepest, utmost desire when she thought about publishing the book?

“I’m glad you did it,” Klaus stated, before flinching. “I get why it might’ve been controversial with our siblings, but it showed the world what a _bastard_ Reggie was. God, Ben was _furious_ reading about the funeral…”

“Ben?” Vanya questioned abruptly, straightening.

Klaus’ eyes widened, his gaze landing on Vanya then shifting to his right, as he’d already done several times, seeming to track something that Vanya couldn’t see.

That had been the one thing Vanya had excluded from her book. She hadn’t written about Klaus’ repeated claims about being able to see their dead brother, despite being high out of his mind. Their siblings had been furious at Klaus, for daring to taunt them with their dead brother, but Vanya had never broached the subject, instead choosing to hold onto a small shred of hope. Ben had always been kind to her, to them all. He’d liked her music, and frequently discussed classical composers with her. (He preferred Bach, she favoured Beethoven.)

Klaus saw _something_ , that much was obvious to her after Ben’s death. But whether that something was a hallucination concocted by Klaus’ drug-addled mind or the ghost of her brother was something she never dared to test. Better to have hope than to risk disappointment.

But now that sliver of hope, which she’d guarded so carefully, began to unravel in her chest, watching an apparently sobering Klaus as he glanced nervously at the space to his right.

“Ben?” she asked again, her voice cracking with desperation.

Finally, Klaus met her eyes. “Ben says that your performance of Bach’s second partita has improved a lot since we were kids.”

“Oh my God.” Vanya covered her mouth with her hands, staring at the space to Klaus’ right. She could almost picture Ben there, sitting cross-legged beside Klaus. Maybe he’d be older now, with slightly longer hair, but those same kind eyes. Maybe wearing that stupid leather jacket that Diego had offered him once, but Ben had loved so dearly he’d never given back, and Diego had never had the heart to reclaim.

It took Vanya a moment to realise she wasn’t imagining it. He was sitting there, definitely older, none of the nervousness that had constantly weighed on his expression in their childhood, staring right back at her with a warm smile.

“Ben?” she breathed, reaching out to touch him.

Klaus jolted upright at the same time that Ben startled, glancing down at himself and patting at his clothes.

“You can see him?”

“You can see me?”

Vanya nodded tearfully. She reached out hesitantly, sucking in a breath as her hand hovered just above Ben’s shoulder, before inching forward. Her hand phased right through him and she quickly snatched it back.

Ben grinned wryly. “Not corporeal then.”

Klaus looked down at his hands, which were faintly glowing blue. “Am I doing this?”

A laugh bubbled out of Vanya’s throat. “You are. This is incredible, Klaus!”

Klaus smiled tiredly before flinching, his hands jerking up to cover his ears.

Ben’s eyes darted to Klaus, a mixture of concern and affection that both eased and worsened the hollow ache inside Vanya.

“I’m not sure how long I have,” Ben stated quickly, turning back to Vanya. “But you need to know – none of this is your fault.”

Vanya’s smile fell and she looked down at her lap. “I nearly killed Allison,” she repeated. “I _did_ kill Leonard, and those two guys who attacked us in the parking lot. Look at what I’m doing to Klaus. I can’t stop hurting people.”

Ben smiled sadly. “Vanya, Dad kept you drugged all your life. Told you you were nothing. We can’t expect you to be able to control your powers immediately.” He paused. “Leonard… he was an emotionally abusive asshole. I’m glad you killed him. Or I would’ve found a way to do it. Those two guys that attacked you? Leonard paid them to do it. He set you up… he was trying to trigger your powers.”

Vanya’s breathing hitched. He’d _known_. Leonard had _known_ she was capable of hurting- of _killing_ people. And he’d pushed her to do it.

Ben laughed lightly. “And The Book? I’m _glad_ you wrote it. Sure, it wasn’t nice to us most of the time, but you told the world my story. The real one – not the bullshit story Dad made up for the media.”

“I was there when Allison talked to Luther – Van, she doesn’t blame you,” Ben continued earnestly. “We’ll help you all we can to get through this.”

Ben’s form flickered and Vanya reached out in alarm. He glanced down at himself and smiled.

“I think that’s all I have for today,” Ben offered. “Look out for Klaus, alright? I love you.”

Ben disappeared and Klaus sagged against the wall. Manifesting Ben seemed to have taken a lot out of him.

“Love you too, Ben,” Vanya whispered before scooting closer to Klaus.

He was still shivering, and his forehead was boiling hot to touch. Her brother was deathly pale and his movement was slow and lethargic as he reached to take her hand again. (Always trying to comfort her – typical Klaus.)

After a moment, Klaus’ head lolled onto her shoulder. “Vanny, can I go to sleep now?”

Vanya rested her head on top of his. Tried not to wonder if Luther would ever let them out. “Of course, Klaus.”

* * *

Klaus jerked awake.

_KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS, KLAUS._

“You alright?”

It took Klaus a moment to place the voice, registering he was huddled against a warm body, his head resting on someone’s shoulder.

“Hey Van,” he murmured weakly. “Think our siblings are here.”

“How can you tell?”

“Lots of ghosts,” Klaus whispered. “They’re so fucking _loud_ , Van.”

“Just a little while longer,” Ben reassured him. “Like hell Five or Diego would let you stay in here.”

Klaus nodded slowly and let his eyes drift shut again. _God_ , his head was fucking pounding. The ghosts wouldn’t _shut up_. His skin was on fire again, burning, burning, burning.

_HELP ME KLAUS. HE KILLED ME. THEY NEVER EVEN FOUND MY BODY._

_Please. You have to help me. My family don’t know what happened._

_My baby. She’s all alone now. My baby girl. I never got to see her again._

There was a flash of light and Klaus forced his eyes open.

“-going through withdrawal,” Vanya was explaining. “And the ghosts aren’t helping. He’s claustrophobic. Can you get him out of here?”

It took Klaus a moment to locate his brother in the sea of ghosts, frowning down concernedly at him, a troubled look in his eyes.

“Hey Fivey,” Klaus mumbled wearily.

Vanya squeezed his hand. “Five’s gonna teleport you out of here, okay?”

Klaus nodded sluggishly. “Sounds nice.” He blinked. “What about you, Van? Five, you can’t leave Van down here.”

“Of course not.” Five was using that gentle tone he only ever used when he was talking Klaus down after the mausoleum. “I’ll come right back for her. But I need to get you out of here first, okay?”

“Okay,” Klaus murmured. He reached tiredly for his brother, offering a weak smile. “Just like we practiced, Fivey.”

Five’s fingers closed around his and they disappeared in a blue flash. Then there were hands, strong but surprisingly gentle, pulling him away from Five, lifting him and supporting him. The ghosts were louder now and Klaus whimpered, turning to bury his face in someone’s shoulder. _(Solid, not Allison, not Vanya.)_

A gruff voice. “I’ve got you, Klaus.”

_(Diego. Brother. Safe.)_

“Van?” he mumbled.

“Right here, Klaus. It’s alright. We’re out now.”

Klaus drifted again. When he next came to, he was warm. There was the sensation of fingers gently carding through his hair, and the soft sound of music drifting through the air, something slow and bluesy that Dave would’ve loved.

Klaus opened his eyes, blinking drowsily, and was met with the sight of Ben sitting by his bedside, quietly reading that book he always carried around. Ben noticed he was awake and smiled, closing his book.

“Hey Klaus,” Ben greeted quietly, leaning forward. “It’s alright. Diego’s standing guard outside, and Van and I won’t leave you. You’re not _there_.”

Klaus blinked again, too tired to even attempt nodding.

“You can go back to sleep,” Ben promised. “Just trust us to handle everything else, okay?”

Klaus managed a nod this time, sluggish and jilted. _Okay._

He let himself drift off again, safe in the knowledge that his siblings were watching over him

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed (:
> 
> Check out my other (superior) TUA story. I'm also about halfway through a fic dealing with my issues with season 2, so subscribe if you wanna see that.


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